There's Something In My Way
by Einsam-Schatten
Summary: Italy hands out the news that he has brain cancer which scares and saddens everyone. Though he denies being frightened in front of everyone else, he is extremely scared. All they can do is hope the disease won't be the end of the innocent little Italian. (DISCONTINUED)
1. Chapter 1: Don't be sad

"You...what?!"

"I have cancer."

All around the room people stared. The world meeting room was filled with wide eyes. The fun-loving, friendly, innocent Italian that they had all grown to love and admire just made a major confession. There was complete silence. This was not only an awkward position on Italy's part...telling them about the news, that is, but it was also such a tragic thing to say. Usually he was the one to light the room, and raise everyone's spirits, but not today. With quivering lips he sank down into his chair as low as he could.

"Italy...tell me I heard you wrong!" England demanded. But Italy just shook his head and let colossal, fat tears slowly drip from his eyes that he had at this moment opened to reveal the perfect color that looked like a mixture of gold and brown.

"I can't deny it, the tests don't lie."

Silence again.

"This is horrible, Italy-san!" Japan exclaimed with a hint of emotion in his voice. And you know shit just got real when Japan shows emotion. You fucking know.

"What kind of cancer is it?" Canada asked, which seemed just maybe a wee bit insensitive, because it was quite the opposite of comfort which is something anyone in this situation would desire.

"Oh...some brain cancer, ve..." Italy sighed, looking down.

"I always knew there was something wrong with your brain, and now there LITERALLY is something wrong with your brain!" America laughed, assuming everyone would take it as a joke until he realized the only one laughing was himself.

England slapped America on the back of the head in irritation, anger, and for Italy's sake.

"Bloody git, why would you fucking joke about this?!"

"Ve, Britain, it's okay, you don't have to hit him~!" Italy assured, concerning everyone's feelings BUT his very own.

"Ah but such a dirty joke surely must come with a punishment," Russia smiled creepily, with his pipe in contact with his hands. France and China nodded while the others just grunted in agreement.

"But I don't want anyone else have to go to the hospital!" Italy cried.

It could've been the cancer talking but most likely he's just being his baby-ish self.

"For your sake, we'll spare him," purred France.

"Yes, aru," China agreed.

America scratched the top of his head, for something felt different. What was it? He could exactly comprehend. Then he realized what was different.

"Ey, Germany, dude, you're being as quiet as a corpse, what's going on man?" America asked with a mouthful of burgers (where did he get burgers?)

"Ah, I guess the news has sort of...shocked me," Germany admitted. His face was absolutely pale, white as a fucking ghost, and his cerulean irises had softened from his usually strict, sharp look. Of course he looked this way. Italy is his only real friend. How sucky is that?

"Potato-bastard has finally had his heart struck," Romano sneered. Germany glared at him from the corner of his eyes.

"Heeey, guess, don't be sad, cuz I am alive now, and you know how long cancer can last! And I am a country so my chance of survival is better than a normal persons, ve!" Italy assured in a cheery, not-really-fitting-the-mood voice.

"Ah, but Italy, I think you're taking this too lightly..." France frowned.

"Nonsense, big brother~! If I pray hard enough, I will live, ve!"

Silence. Silence until broken by Germany.

"God is not always on your side, Feli."

More silence. Then quickly, England stood up and called the rest of the meeting off, for a good damn reason too, this was getting depressing. He waved everyone out, telling them all to have a good day and that shit. As Italy, Germany, and Japan walked out together, Italy hung his head.

"I shouldn't have said anything, now everyone's worried about me," he pouted, bottom lip out and everything. Just like a little child.

"Italy-kun, you did the write thing about telling them right away. They might be able to help you, you never know," Japan told the upset Italian.

"Ja, Japan's write," Germany agreed with a nod. Then his face looked pale again. That freaky ghost face.

"I just can't believe it, you're only twenty (human years). How could it be you've got brain cancer?!" Germany asked in disbelief. He was not gonna be optimistic about this. Cancer is cancer, whether you're a country or not. And all the pasta Italy eats could've wrecked his immune system. It's hard to recover from cancer with a bad immune system. Sure, he has high metabolism but how will that help?

"Do not worry, Germany~! I'll be fine, ve!" Italy said with a giggle. He believed Germany was such a worrywart.

"Ah Italy-kun, always staying away from the bad side of things," Japan sighed as he slowly shook his head. At this Italy grinned.

"That's not a bad thing, ve."

The trio decided to end their little stop-and-talk and head out. They all went their separate ways to their homes. Soon, Italy arrived at his house, and he sat down on his leather made couch.

"Ve, I'm tired," he said to himself, welcoming over the little brown cat in the corner of the room.

"Pookie! Come here, Pookie~!" he called sweetly. The little brown feline jumped onto her master's lap and began to purr.

"Ah your not stressed about this whole thing, I can talk to you about if and you won't freak out. I like that, ve," he told the cat, picking her up and hugging her. Italy didn't want people to be concerned about him. He want everyone to smile. For their happiness.

"Pookie, can I tell you something?" he asked his cat, who was oblivious to everything that was going on. She stared at him blankly and meowed. He took his index finger and moved her chin up and down.

"Good, grazie," he thanked,"I admit, I'm very scared about this. I am a country, si, but...cancer is still dangerous. And I don't want to die. I don't want to miss my friends. I don't think it's fair. It's not."

He felt tears swelling up in his eyes, falling on by one out of his beautiful eyes. He put his left hand over his mouth as the blood flushed to his cheeks which were being soaked with salty tear drops. Pookie crawled up to her upset owner's face and licked a tear drop running down his face.  
"Grazie."


	2. Chapter 2: Thanks for the meal

"Hey, Austria, have you heard the tragic news about Italy?" Hungary asked.

"He finally got himself ran over by a car?" he guessed,"Damn it I knew that'd happen! Poor Italy..."

"No!" Hungary exclaimed, a little surprised,"He's got cancer, he wasn't hit by a fucking car!"

"No need to shout, I was just guessing," Austria defended,"but seriously...North Italy? He's got cancer?"

Hungary nodded sadly.

"It's a fucking shame, that's what it is," she murmured.

"Hopefully, the boy will be alright. Romano and Germany would do whatever they can to keep him alive. Paying the finest doctors in their countries, giving him only healthy meals and vitamins to keep his immune system from shattering," Austria said.

"Way to be optimistic..." Hungary sarcastically commented,"Don't you think that you're taking it too lightly though?'

"Nope, just hoping for the better," he sighed.

Meanwhile, Japan and Germany planned to check on their sick friend Italy to see if his health is staying about stable. It's obviously not gonna be THAT stable, the kid eats too much bread and wheat and shit. The two arrived at the house, and knocked on the door. But no happy red-head (or brown-head...I really can't tell) came to greet them, which worried the two a whole shit load.

"Ah, I forgot! I have a key, he lent it to me to check up on his cat while he was out," Germany reminded himself.

He shuffled in his pocket to pull out a small, silver, rusty looking key, and shoved it into the lock. With a turn and a click, they were in.

"Italy-san?" Japan called, overcome by worry for his friend.

"There's his room, he might be in there," Germany pointed out, heading over to a small wooden door, connected to the guest room. He turned the doorknob to find this door was also locked.

"Damn it, Italia!" he raged.

He began to search for a possible key to this room, on a nearby mantle, or under a mat, but there was no key for this. It was time for desperate measures.

"I didn't want to have to do this, especially because I'll have to pay for damages if it breaks the wrong way but..."

Japan stood back as Germany prepared to ram the door open. With a loud "BAM" they were in. Luckily it didn't break the wrong way, and just slid open. Yaya~!

I shocked Italy bolted up (he must've been sleeping) and then hid himself under the young covers, not bothering to see who it was, screaming and crying like a child would.

"Ve! No, please do not hurt me! Please! I'll do anything! I don't want to do die! Not now! I beg yoooou!"

Germany and Japan rushed to the frightened Italy's side.

"Italy, calm down! Your on chemotherapy, your going to make yourself pass out!" Germany yelled.

"Italy-san, it's just us," Japan assured calmly.

Realizing that he'd made a mistake, he peaked from beneath his covers to see his to friends, looking down at him in a startled manor. He opened his eyes, which were quite wet right now, and sighed in relief.

"I'm sorry...ve," he apologized, sounding embarrassed (for once in his life /shot).

"Italy-san, why did you lock your door?" Japan asked after everyone had caught their breath.

"Oh, well, I usually do when I take naps. I didn't think anyone was going to stop by," he explained sheepishly. He believe he had just made a fool of himself for what he had done. The locked door, and the beg for life.

"Get used to visitors, you're sick," Germany said in his usual, strict, do-what-you're-told way.

"Ah...right."

Germany looked around the room to see that it looked just like a hospital room. Plasma bags hooked up to tubes, heart moniters, the whole collection and shit.

"Um...so, I'm guessing the doctor visits here..?" Germany asked, continuing to examine the room.

"Si, I pay him to come every morning, like around 8 o' clock, and every afternoon, like around 2 o' clock!" he explained.

"If that's the case, then you should probably leave your doors inside unlocked," Japan recommended, looking at his heart rate.

"Ah, Italy, we brought you a healthy meal that you could maybe indulge in," Japan smiled as he held up a lunch container filled with vegetables and fruits and grains galore.

"Ve! That looks yummy~!" Italy complimented."Let's go to the kitchen to eat it!"

"Wait, Italia, can you even walk?" Germany asked,"I know some side effects to brain cancer and chemotherapy are dizziness and weakness..."

"Don't worry I'll be fine~!" he chirped.

"If you say so," Japan shrugged.

Italy unhooked his feeding tubes and took off towards the kitchen at a slow pace, to make sure he doesn't collapse from exhaustion. He arrived at his kitchen table and scooted out his chair which made a loud scraping sound against the slate flooring. The sound resembled that of a fart, causing the naive, childish Italian to giggle, which made the Japanese man and the German roll their eyes. Japan set the meal down in front of Italy and handed him plastic, disposable silverware.

"Ve, we divide it into three!" Italy insisted, with a perky look on his face (such innocence wow...sorry I'll shut up).

"No it's just for you, I insist," Japan politely denied his request, and Germany nodded his head in agreement.

"Pleaaase~!" Italy begged with a sweet-as-possible facial expression. The two nations just got smacked in the face pretty fucking hard by the power of pure adorableness.

With a groan they agreed, which brought pleasure to their little dying friend.

"Ve, grazie!" he thanked as he began to divide the portions off onto plates.

The meal was prepared and they all happily ate together, and talked as if the bad times were behind them, and there was no more worries in the entire world. Eventually, everyone was nearly finished, and pretty damn full.

"Just gimme a second to finish and I'll go back to my room," Italy told them.

Suddenly, he began to stab the table with his fork, letting out 'oops' and 'oh' here and there, as if he was struggling to target where he wanted to plastic fork to go,

"I-Italy, is there something wrong?" Germany asked nervously.

"It's all so blurry..." Italy said briefly before dropping his fork on the table.

"Vision problems?! Or are you about to pass out?!" Germany asked urgently.

"Both, I think..." Italy said weakly, becoming very pale, and seemingly limp.

"He won't be able to stand up, Germany-san, we need to help him," Japan said, grabbing one of Italy's frail arms. Germany grabbed the other arm and the two began to haul his limp body towards the bedroom.

"I don't understand, he was so lively and healthy only a second ago, this disease must by unpredictable!" Germany exclaimed in frustration as they heaved him into bed.

"Maybe he can't be away from the tube things for too long*..." Japan suggested, hooking him up to the tubes the way he assumed it should be done.

"Italy, how're you doing?" Germany asked the half-conscious Italy.

"D-Dizzy..."

Suddenly, they heard a knock on the door, and left the room to see who it may be. They opened the door to see none other than the tomato-loving, mustache-mocking, irritable person that was North Italy's older brother, Romano.

"Damn it, what are you doing here you fucking potato bastard!" Romano growled at the sight of Germany.

"We were checking up on Italy. He's dizzy, possibly unconscious at the moment," Germany calmly explained with a sigh.

"You've done your damn job for today, so get out of here, fucking potato bastard!" Romano hissed.

The two left, not really in the mood to deal with Romano, and headed home. Meanwhile, Romano walked into his younger brothers room, who was still not quite unconscious, but not looking so good.

"Fratello..? Is that you..ve..?" Italy asked, trying to see through temporarily disabled eyes.

"Si. Are you doing well?" Romano asked.

Italy nodded.

"What happened to Japan and Germany?"

"They...told me they had to leave," Romano lied.


	3. Chapter 3: New Meeting Place

**Note: the treatment Italy uses (chemotherapy) causes weakness/lack of energy, some vision problems, headaches clumsiness, which are important details to know throughout the story**

***Keh- deep breathing sounds**

"Meow," Pookie mewed.

"Ciao~!" Italy greeted his cat with opened arms.

"Meow," Pookie repeated.

"Meow and ciao...eyy that rhymes~!" giggled Italy, stroking the tabby's head.

The upside to not being able to go places and do things often is, Italy had been able to hang with his cat more often. But the downside to THAT is he talks to his cat...a lot...which could come off strange to normal people...(but we're all weird here riiight?)

"I like hanging out with you~!"

If only cats could talk. But...

Pookie's verbal language: Meow.

Pookie's thoughts: Meow.

Pookie but a paw on Italy's forehead, making him shudder. You never know when the claws will come out. Never.

"Ahahah, Pookie, you wouldn't...you wouldn't scratch me, right?" he asked with a nervous laugh. His finger lifted up to the cats arm to see if he can carefully move it away from his face. Then suddenly the phone rang. Italy was startled. The cat was startled. There were claw marks.

"Ooow- uhn, hello?"

"Ah, hello, Italy?" someone answered with question in his voice.

"Ciao...who's this, exactly?"

"It's England."

"Whoaaa! Seriously? I never get calls from you, what's uuup?" he asked in the same excited way he always greets his friends with.

"Well, Italy, it was discussed that since you have cancer, it would be dangerous for you to move around too much, right?" England began.

"Ah, si? I guess," he said with a shrug (even though he knew Britain wouldn't be able to see him).

"Well-" England was interrupted by a voice in the background.

"Dude, we totally wanted to ask you if we could use your house as a meeting place so you wouldn't have to travel!"

"America? Is that you? England, am I on speaker?" Italy asked.

"Ah...yes..." England admitted.

"Uhn...okay...but anyway, my doctor said I don't have to rest AS much anymore."

"He probably wouldn't want you traveling to another country just to listen to a meeting," England sighed.

"Okay."

"Good we're at an agreement, dude!" America chimed in.

With that, he hung up. Italy touched his forehead to feel a sharp pain. Bringing down his finger, he saw the bit of blood smeared on his fingertip. Pookie came up to him and nuzzled his side, apologetically? Probably not, but her timing was ironic. The Italian sighed and got up to get himself a band-aid. Then it was all "CRAP OUTA BAND-AIDS".

"Okay Pookie, I'm going back to my room, coming or leaving?" he sighed tiredly, run his hand through the hair in the back of his head. Pookie meowed. Again, not as a reply, cats can't talk or understand human speech. This isn't a fairy tale, people!

He began to walk towards his room. Pookie watched his movements for a second and at the last moment, zipped into the room (wow Pookie has such an important role). As Italy hooked up the tubes to his veins, Pookie jumped on his lamp. Now imagine this, fat, over-fed cat jumping with full force onto the lap of someone who's as frail as you can possibly fucking get. If you are a cat owner, and don't do curl-ups you know what I'm talking about, mhm.

"Ve! Ow-hheee..!" he yelped as the cat began to purr and rub against his chest. Worst part was that she was shedding. Sorry that wasn't unnecessary information.

"So...Pookie, we're gonna have a full house on meeting days. Ve, that'll be fun, right?"

"Meow."

Italy furrowed his brows. This was boring. Talking to a cat is not fun, especially since they don't even understand you enough to at least communicate with body-language.

"Ve, I'll call Romano! He has no life, so he should enjoy a talk!" Italy decided with a grin. He searched his nightstand for his pink (the manly shade!) cellphone. It wasn't there.

"Shit, I left it in the guest room..." he reminded himself, crossing his arms.

His golden (or brown?) eyes found his cat's greengage eyes. Stupid idea time!

_Ve, I wonder if I mentally ask her to fetch my phone she'll do it_, Italy thought, rubbing his chin.

_Pookie, get me my cellphone!_

Nothing.

_Please?_

Nope.

_ Pretty please with tomato sauce and garlic on top?_

At this point, from how the little tabby was seeing it, it just seems like Italy is staring at her in a freaky way. The fur on her tail puffed up a little. Suddenly, it could be heard through the thin walls, his ringtone (marukaite chikyuu, marukaite chikyuu, marukaite chikyuu, boku hetalia!).

"Agh!" Italy groaned. He began unhooking himself from the feeding tubes and heart monitor machines and ran as quickly as he could let himself to pick up his phone.

"Keh...hello..keh...*" panted the exhausted Italian.

"Eh, Italy? You okay, you don't sound good?" was the 'hello' he got.

"Ahh, big brother, it's you!" he pointed out, recognizing the voice of Romano,"I knew you had such little of a life you'd have to talk to me, ve-Uhn...oh wait..."

"What was that you basta- oh whatever..." Romano said, ending what he was saying as submissive as he could possibly sound.

"What's uuup, ve?" he was trying his best not to sound like he was out of breath.

"Eh, well y'know I can't visit you all the time to check on you, so I decided to call..."

"Aww big brother cares!"

"Ah?! N-No...! Only because you're my stupid, weak brother!"

Despite what Romano said, Feliciano smiled. He knew that his big brother really did have a soft place in his heart for him...even though it may be labeled "Dumbass little brother".

"How've you been, stupid?" Romano asked quietly. He sounded like he was still a little embarrassed by Feliciano's comment.

"I'm doing okay...hey! Get this! He said I don't have to stay in my bed all day! I can go places for a little while, like the store! Probably just the store though..." He chattered, sounding surprisingly happy, despite the circumstance he was in.

"That's it? He didn't say anything like 'Your health is progressing' or 'Your health his taking a turn for the worst', nothing like that?"

"...no..." Italy muttered.


	4. Chapter 4: He's a mess

**Note: I apologize, this chapter is kinda all over the place. I have what some like to refer to as "Writer's block" so it really sucks. I'll make the next chapters better, promise  
**

_Today...those guys come over_

Italy scanned the room he was in. It was messy. Whenever he would go out of his room to eat, he'd spill, stain, and make one hell of a shitty mess. But he'd lose ambition to do anything, much less clean, and end up going back into his room to clean. And hiring a maid would be idiotic, for medical bills are still so goddamn high, he'd be broke before the month fucking ends. The most logical plan would be to pick up a broom now and get it all down in...ten minutes...sure yeah, what the hell, right? Italy ventured to his closet of cleaning supplies...like a janitors closet~! Gathering up his broom and Lysol wipes, (Italy supports Lysol, love it or money back guarantee...or whatever the hell those fucking stupid tv announcers say) he headed to the messy room the countries would be meeting in. All of a sudden, he wasn't feeling well...again...stupid cancer and...bad modern day treatments!

"Ve, why even try, I'll just kill myself or something...I can't do anything without it making me feel sicker!" Italy cried, his usual gloriously gay (happy) grin, was now a frustrated frown, with the additional furrowed eyebrows, and wrinkled nose, cuz it just makes the whole look work.

He didn't have time to put away his cleaning supplies before he heard thesound of that retched doorbell...the doorbell that rules your life...the one that stops you from watching the best part of your sitcom, only to be greeted when opened with:  
"Would you like to buy our merchandise, good sir?"  
Yes. That doorbell. But since this off topic...

Italy answered the door. A big-ass group of people stood in front of him bearing depressed, bright, and a few sour (Ludwig, Romano) faces.

"Ah...please come in."

He just realized that Pookie was at his leg...when someone stepped on her tail when the countries walked in (poor kitty). He picked up the cat. The Italian was in need of a bit of love and affection right now, and cats can provide (they're just awesome like that).

The nations were all surprised to see the room they were using, full of clutter. Sure, Italy was not the cleanest, but you could be damn sure he wasn't a slob.

"Sorry the room is not looking very good for having guests over, but you try to clean when you're tired all the time," he apologized (and sorta explained) quietly, stroking his cat for comfort.

Everyone could see he wasn't acting himself. His usual response would be:  
"Ve! It's a mess isn't it? Oh well, we can deal with it right?"  
What...where are the "ve" 's in his sentences? It was obvious this sickness had already really taken a toll on the kid.

"Italy, are you feeling alright?" Spain tilted his head to the right. He had noticed not only his behavioral issues, but could also address how he didn't look the same as usual, if he wanted to. Red face, sweaty, heavy breathing. It didn't really seem like he was just nervous, Feliciano doesn't have a history of getting nervous easily.

"S-Si, thanks for your concern..." Italy looked down, pressing his face (nose and down) into the back of Pookie's soft, fluffy neck, as if the cat were a teddy bear, given to Italy who could be represented as a small child, troubled by everything that has been going on recently.

"Hm...are you sure?" France asked, taking a seat in a chair that was set out in the middle of the room.

"Si!" Italy seemed...almost...pissed? This was not like him...that's Romano's thing.

The clutter, the attitude change. Kid's a mess.

Germany decided to be blunt about his opinion, "You can't handle yourself. Go to a hospital."

Italy looked up at his tall, German friend with eyes that asked "Serious..?", and Germany put a hand on his shoulder (for those fangirl shippers of GerIta, this is not hinting any of that, he's just putting his hand on his shoulder. That's all, okay?) which made Italy look down.

"Mister Germany is right," Japan confirmed, nodding his head once.

"B-But...I can't..." Italy muttered weakly.

"Why not, aru?" China asked.

"Ve...I can't take Pookie, and I'll feel lonely...also hospitals make me nervous...they're creepy!"

"Those reasons are small...you should go for your health's sake," Russia rested his chin on his fist as he looked at the countries to see if they'd nod or say something in agreement. Sure enough, they all either nodded or did nothing.

"But, what about the meetings! Surely you can't hold a meeting in a hospital room!" Italy argued, hugging his cat tighter to his chest. The cat made a weird squeaking sound, but he still didn't let go.

"I think you're choking your ca-...oh never mind...just stop arguing with us like an idiot, and listen!" Romano said angrily slamming his hands on Italy's coffee table. Pookie became startled by his outburst and broke from Feliciano's grip, scrambling away.

"Pookie!" he stood up suddenly.

Everyone stared at Italy. He got this awkward feeling as his stomach muscles tightened. Sitting down, his ears reddened. His hands lied in his lap.

"I'll go to the hospital..." the defeated Italian gave up.

"I appreciate that you are being cooperative," Russia smiled.


	5. Chapter 5: Smile for me

**Note: This chapter is super lame, too, so I beg of your forgiveness :/**

-

North Italy was guided to his hospital room. Room 34. Oh 34, such a random number (I am so sorry I say those random things, it's just what I do). Opening the door, he was welcomed to a small room, stark white. White bed, white floor, white door, white fucking everything. It looked like a white-obsessed persons bedroom, and obsessed is sorta like crazy, so that means doctors are crazy, right? He walked into the room. It would surely take some getting used to. The doctor presented him with a (fucking white) hospital gown and a pair of slippers. Having waved the doctor into the hallway, he dressed himself into the soft, thin hospital gown, and sat himself on the bed provided for him. When his doctor re-entered the room, he hooked him up to IVs (haha that's the first time I used their technical term instead of the word "tube" I'm sorry).

"Your previous doctor talked to us about some concerns he had about your condition," the doctor had a straight as hell face and a serious tone. Doctors are no fucking fun.

"Ve?!"

"If I said your health was progressing...well...it'd be a dead lie."

For Italy, this was feeling sort of like a real life soap opera. The ones where one character falls ill, it gets all dramatic, they go to the ER, then the nurse is all "doctor, will the patient make it" then the doctor is all "no" then "kiss me I'm scared" and finally "yeeeah baby" or something like that. So far the last part hasn't happened though so— wait, never mind.

Italy looked up at the ceiling. He just stared at that pattern that ceilings always have, the ones that look kinda like tiny fireworks, for about ten minutes, until he heard a knock on the door.

_Whoa, visitors already, ve!_

"Come in!"

_Oh crap, what if it's France. Where's Romano or Germany when I need them?!_

To his relief, it was his short friend, Japan. He walked in with a Wal Mart and another bag labeled with katakana symbols, so the Italian didn't know what it said.

"I brought you some stuff, Italy-san, so you wouldn't feel too bored."

The bags were plopped onto Italy's lap. Opening the Wal Mart bag up first, he peeked inside. Gelato—not the cheap store brand—a sketch pad, mechanical pencils. The sick Italian smiled up at Japan. He opened the other bag with the foreign writing. Manga..! And...a kitten stuffed animal!

"Ah! Grazie, Japan!"

Japan nodded his head once.

"No problem...so, how're you feeling about being away from home?"

"Nervous...are you and Germany feeding Pookie on schedule?!" that was his main concern at the moment. Oh, Italy...

"Hai, Italy-san," Japan chuckled.

Italy smiled until he remembered what his doctor had told him not too long ago. Staring down at his lap he let out a nervous laugh.

_He's my friend, I have to tell him._

"Japan, I need to tell you something."

"What is it?"

"Well, the doctor..he said I'm not getting any better...I'm getting worse."

His friend stared in disbelief.

"B-But I don't feel worse so he must be crazy, haha!" his shaking wasn't helping his situation. The last resort, try to make things better by saying his famous sound that no one knows what it means!

"Ve."

"As uplifting as that strange-sound-that-no-one-can-explain was, it will not distract me from the fact that you indeed are dying," Japan was too good for him.

"I...don't like your reaction...it makes me feel bad..."

"Wha..?"

"I like it when people are happy! This whole sad thing sucks."

"How can anyone feel happy right now, Italy-san? It's ridiculous that you think anyone could pull a smile while they know you're being taken away by a fatal illness! No one smiled while the bubonic plague spread!"

Italy smiled.

"I can smile. And you should, too."

"How can you be so optimistic, this disease is a killer?"

"Hm...well, I think of the chances I still have of living...but there's more than that. I also think about how...if I do die, I'll be in heaven, and I won't suffer anymore! I could be everyone's Guardian Angel!"

"Y'know...Germany would probably had slapped you or yelled at you if he heard you mention anything about the upsides of dying."

"Haha, I know. And my brother would scream at me."

They both chuckled. The corners of Japan's mouth lifted.

"There we go. That's the smile that I was looking for."

**Sorry this is so fucking short.**


	6. Chapter 6: Let's go drinking

** So here's the deal, I'm actually kinda still decided what kinda ending this story is gonna have (yes, there's a few more chapters). I could pull on your heart strings and have Feli almost die...or I can rip off your heart strings and have him die, for an extra dramatic ending ;D you can leave an opinion in a review~! (Also, sorry this chapter is kinda dumb)  
**  
**-**

"Sir, do you want me to bring in a drink?" a nurse asked, whom was checking on Feliciano's heart rate,"The options are water, orange juice, apple juice, tomato juice, or grape juice."

Lots of juice.

"Aaah...grape juice~!" he squeaked with a smile.

"Mr. Vargas, you're sounding better today."

Italy rubbed the back of his head, "Hah, just trying to keep a good attitude, ve!"

With a grin, the nurse left the room. The sick country resumed what he had been doing before. Drawing on the sketch pad Japan had gifted him. All was content, he was sketching pretty women in dresses (Oooh Feli) until suddenly "BAM" the door flung open.

"YEEK!"

"Kesese! What's wrong? Is the awesome Prussia too awesome for you to handle?!" Prussia laughed, his hand still on the door.

Italy tried to catch his breath and looked frantic.

"Bruder, you can't do that to him!" from behind, you could hear the deep voice of Italy's German chum.

"G-Germany, Prussia? W-What are two you doing here?" Italy sunk his head in his memory-foam pillow.

Prussia held up a box of random stuff. Note, Germany is still stuck behind his older brother, for he's blocking the door way.

"It's some stuff from your home to comfort you here!"

The box consisted of pictures, blankets, and other random stuff. Italy shuffled through it and found inside there was his old SONY camera. Examining the old, less-often used camera, he cocked his head to the right and looked up.

"Why the camera, ve?" he asked, fumbling with the camera.

"Oh, must've slipped it in there on accident, kesese, even the great Prussia makes mistakes!"

"Um...Prussia, if you'd LET ME IN, I could give him the last item!" Germany fumed from behind Prussia.

"Sorry, West! Kesese!"

He moved out of the way so Germany could make his way up to Italy. There was a lump he was holding in a black jacket. Approaching the bed, Italy smiled up at him.

"What is it, ve?"

Out of his jacket, he pulled a brown, fuzzy cat. Pookiiiie~! She squirmed in the German's firm hands.

"I thought that you'd probably want to see her."

"S-Si! Grazie, grazie, grazie!" he hugged his pet, "They actually let you take cats in?"

They both shrugged, "I dunno, we snuck her in, hence the reason why she was in my jacket," Germany answered.

"Oh."

"Ey, Italy, are we aloud to take you outa this place for a bit?" the albino by the door asked.

"I...don't know...maybe? Ask the nurse when she comes in."

"That's gonna take too long, let's go!" he carelessly unhooked his IVs.

As Italy stood up, he felt his legs wobbling from beneath him, "Are you sure this is fine?"

"Ja!"

Germany didn't really speak up. He knew that his brother wouldn't listen to him for the world. They allowed Italy to go into the toilet area and change into casual clothes instead of hospital clothing. Soon he was being ushered out the door by a crazy Prussian. They talked to the front counter lady, who insisted they take a wheel chair, and then they exited the premises. Germany insisted they stop by Feli's house first to drop of the cat, which was clawing up a storm in his jacket.

"What are we gonna do after that?" Italy chirped. He felt like he was important, being wheeled around by his friends. His feet didn't have to touch the ground!

"We should go drinking! I can invite over Antonio and Fr—" Prussia was cut of by Germany shaking his head and saying, "No, let's not invite over extra company."

"Is it safe for me to drink, ve?"

"Why wouldn't it be? Kesese!"

Their minds were made up. The three dropped the feline off at Italy's house and the next destination was the bar.

"I'm gonna get SO FUCKING DRUNK!" Prussia declared, fist pumping the air above him.

"A beer sounds nice..." Germany said blandly.

"Why do you sound so quiet, Germany?" Italy asked.

Before Germany could even have a chance to answer, Prussia felt the need to talk for him, "He's bummed about you like everyone else."

"Oooh, I'll be fine, I promised, remember?"

With that, they entered the bar. Loud chanting and yelling was drowning out the sound of the music. It was dark except for a few dim lights on the walls. There were tables and counters and one big-ass collection of alcohols. Hello, Heaven, where've you been? Right here the whole time. Immediately, they walked (and wheeled) up to the counter. Ordering their desired drink, they drank straight from the bottle. Large swigs at a time! The burning yet satisfying feeling in their throats and chest settled in (please note that I've never drank in my life, for I am not old enough, so this may be a bad description of the feeling, I just ask about other people's drinking experiences).

"Ooooh and WESHT 'HIC' zat time when chu 'HIC' were really 'HIC' shcared cuz of that 'HIC' nightmur 'HIC'," Prussia slurred, circling his fingers in the air as if he were following an instrumental rhythm. (Just sound it out, it'll make sense)

"Ja ja 'HIC' chu tried to comfut me 'HIC' by gaving me bur 'HIC' and shen I gut 'HIC' mad at chu!" Germany finished Prussia's pointless childhood story thingy.

Surprisingly, Italy wasn't drinking much, and remained sober.

"Wash 'HIC' wrung Itariu 'HIC' 'r chu 'HIC' nut feling will 'HIC'?" Germany asked with a stupid, drunk (duh) grin stretched across his face.

"I'm fine!" he assured, rubbing his nose. Prussia got a closer look to see his nose was bleeding.

"Chu s'r 'HIC'?" Prussia asked.

"Well, if you want, you can take me back to the hospital, haha..." at this point he WAS feeling pretty sick. Usually, everyday at a certain time, he gets migraines and passes out randomly.

"Nut 'HIC' unlish chu wunt ta 'HIC'!" Germany slapped Italy on the back heartily, sending Italy forward a bit. He took another huge gulp out of a beer bottle.

"Ve, just keep doing what you're doing!" he drank a bit of his wine. He hadn't had nearly enough wine to feel dizzy, so this feeling that was overcoming him was not being drunk. Suddenly, everything was black.


	7. Chapter 7: Stupid idea

**Warning: Totally drunk Germans and raging nurses. Enjoy~**

The two Germanic countries stared at the unconscious Italy. Now, you'd think they'd start freaking out but...they're dead drunk! Prussia grinned, as fucking wide as his cheeks could possibly stretch.

"HAH 'HIC' musht've had to mush liquar 'HIC' ta handol 'HIC' tak abut low tolarince 'HIC'!" Prussia slurred, laughing loudly. He was also patting a random stranger on the back. Creepy.

The just-as-drunk Germany poked Italy's head. His strong finger forced his head to roll to the side (sounds like his head is disconnected from his body, sorry fufu). Shaking his shoulders, he shouted in the young Italians ears, telling him to wake up. When he didn't, it occurred to even someone as alcohol-consumed as Germany, something wasn't right.

"Hey, 'HIC' brudar, I shink 'HIC' shomething ishn't right 'HIC'..." Germany told his wasted brother.

It took a while for Prussia to comprehend what was going on. When he finally did, he sighed at the thought of leaving.

"Okay 'HIC' lesh git him back ta sha hoshpitol 'HIC'."

They stood up from their seats by the counter and found it was really hard to stand. Their legs wobbled as if they couldn't support the weight of the two countries. Germany took hold of the wheel chair's handles, and he began to push it with shaking arms and hands. The chair swiveled in a few different directions as Germany and Prussia tried to overcome their confusion of where they were and where their car was. Eventually they found it.

"Ish hish 'HIC' hurt 'HIC' shtilk betting 'HIC'" Prussia asked, attempting to unlock the car.

"What 'HIC'?"

"Chseck hish 'HIC' pulshe!"

Germany tried to find Italy's neck or wrist in his uselessly hazy vision. Instead he accidentally felt his cheek. Now, how someone mistakes someone's cheek for their neck, I don't know, but he was pretty fucking drunk.

"I can't fil hish 'HIC' pulshe!" he was oblivious to the fact that he was, in fact, still breathing just fine.

Prussia finally got the door to unlock and hurried them in, hauling Italy into a seat and folding his wheel chair. Germany got behind the wheel and slammed down the gas peddle with his foot. The car sped straight into a dumpster, to Germany's frustration.

"Gott dammit!" Germany raged, backing out, and speeding away.

Germany slowed down after being able to find somewhat control of his brain. Prussia however was screaming in his ear "DRIVE BOY DRIIIIVE!" which was really distracting, whether you're drunk or sober. After a whole bunch of screaming in German accents, they arrived at the hospital parking lot. On the way in, Prussia blew a kiss to the front desk lady, (he's still dead drunk fufu) whom took offense, for she was married already. They rushed Feli to his room and slammed the door open, to find a nurse and a doctor who were both freaking out. They stared at the drunk Germans for a bit, before their stare turned into an ice-cold glare. The two apologized and exited the building.

About an hour later, Italy opened his eyes to see the blurriness of an unfamiliar setting. He could've sworn, the last place he was, a dark, loud, reeking-of-liquor bar, not a...wait...this was his hospital room. Bolting upright, he looked around for Prussia and Germany.

"Ve...they're go—" he saw by his bedside was a red-faced nurse who looked like she had just had a freak attack.

"Oh, ciao!" he grinned. Waiting for, but not receiving a reply.

"Mr. Vargas..." she started out calm, "Do you have ANY idea how worried the doctor and I were?!"

The sounded like a mama and papa. His face practically read the word "guilt" on it, "I'm sorry, I should've asked before a decided I could leave..."

"Yes, that's right! Are you aware that you almost died?!" this made his face so pale, it looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"R-Really?"

"Yes! Were you drinking?!"

"No! Or um...well, not much! I had less than a pint of wine, I swear..."

"Getting drunk may threaten your health!"

"I wasn't drunk! And I'll remember that..."

"Good. Now, do you want that juice you asked for?" she held out a plastic bottle of grape juice, and he remembered that he asked for it. This made him giggle a bit, like a silly child, which brought a grin to the formerly furious hospital worker.

"Haha, okay Feliciano. Just tell me you promise you'll talk to someone before you go anywhere."

"Okie-dokie!"

**Sorry this is so short ;(**


	8. Important author

Ah, I am kinda stuck. I've been trying to write the next chapter but as soon as I think I've written down enough, I look at it and find it's way too fucking short : I will take a small break on this story, y'know, to get those ideas sorted out and stuff. Until then, I'll try to get the next chapters of those two other multi-chapter stories done a bit, and publish a new story that I had been working on with a friend of mine ^^ I hope that this does not disappoint anyone, but probably not cuz there are so many WAAAAY better stories out there x3

Well...ciao folks ;D


	9. Chapter 8: Take a picture

**Okay guys, I'd like to thank you for the 12 reviews, 9 favorites, and 15 followers. At first, this story was rather unpopular, so I didn't think I'd get that far by chapter 8. Thank yooou!**

"Feliciano, we've got some...er...news."

His nurse had just walked in with a frown across her face. This was unusual, for she was always so chipper around him. Hell, everyone was. But not today.

"Bad news?" Italy assumed.

She nodded, which made him turn white.

"It looks like your condition is worsening rapidly. Your doctors don't know what to do anymore. And this is the quickest acting cancer we've ever worked with. Usually, it takes a whole lot longer than a month to get this bad!"

_I'm a country, damn it, why would my sickness be worsening faster?!_

"Oh...uh..." he couldn't quite decide how to react. He was too tired to cry. Usually, that'd be considered weird, right?

...

"You want to take a picture you say?" Japan asked.

Italy nodded slowly. He hadn't dared tell anyone about the shocking news he had received only days before. Now, he knew their was something he wanted to do before he died.

"I want to take pictures of me and everyone else before uhh...I mean, for memories sake!" he chirped. Japan looked at him for a bit. But then he nodded. It was surprising he didn't catch his mistake.

"Say pas...PASTA! Say PASTA!" Italy immediately changed his tone of voice.

With a grin, Japan sat next to him on the bed and held the camera in the air in front of them.

"PASTA!"

_Click._

"Will this be okay, Italy-san?"

"S-Si! Thank you for visiting, Japan!" the dark paper came out of the camera. He waited for the photo to show up, and was satisfied when it did.

...

"Idiot, why the hell do you want to take a fucking picture right this second, I'm busy damn it!" Romano roared at his younger twin.

"P-Please, fratello? You never know..." time to play innocent and dirty, "when 'the day' will come..."

"Ugh...uh...fine, damn it!"

North Italy's eyes lit up and his cheeks flushed to the same happy, rosy color they usually are. It felt reassuring to his big brother that he looked like he was in such "healthy conditions". Haha, if only. They went through the same routine as with Japan. Sit on the bed, hold out the camera, 'click', awkward goodbye. Lovino waved as he closed the door behind him. The sick younger brother sat there quietly, then decided to look at the picture. Plopping backwards on the bed, he began to feel tired. Whether it was depression slinking in, or just being...tired...he didn't know.

"Fuck."

"Are you okay, Feliciano?"

The nurse had come in to check on him. What a nice lady.

"Si..." he sighed.

"You don't look like it..."

"Well, excuuuse me!" one hand went in the air, separating itself from beside the collapsed body of it's "owner.

"Haah..?"

"I'm sorry...I'm just...exhausted."

"Go to sleep child~!"

That brought a famous, wide, Italia grin to his face. It was just way too easy to amuse him, even at depressing moments. He sat up and popped his fingers. For no apparent reason. Don't get into that habit, children, he's dying so it's different.

"So, what's up with all the visitors today?" the nurse asked.

"Aaah...stuff?"

"Stuff?"

"Stuff."

She let out a small, humorous, "pfft" as she walked out the door, as if to replace the words "silly boy" or "what will I do with you" like what'd be said to a toddler. The door began closing slowly until her foot caught it in the doorway.

"Oh yeah, you have another visitor arriving from the waiting room."

...

"Ludwig~!" Italy sang.

"How come you call me that?" Germany's face looked very stiff and serious. Italy cocked his head.

"When you say 'Ludwig' it sounds different. Just call me Germany."

The Italian was quick to correct himself.

"Yes, Germany!"

_That was weird...but don't think about that! Sound happy!_

"Teehee, take a picture with me, Germany!"

His friend didn't look convinced. Take it up a notch!

"Veee~"

Germany's blue eyes didn't soften. If anything, they hardened. It was...soul piercing.

"What's really going on?"

"Germany, you're so silly~!"

"I'm serious."

Germany is intelligent, and knows what's going on, usually. He senses the mood, and looks into things deeply. Plus, he's known his little pasta-loving friend for long enough to understand him well.

"Nothing at all!"

"Oh really? Cuz I've talked to the nurse."

"You haaaave..?"

Frankly, Germany was pissed. How could his best friend NOT had told him that his condition was worsening. He was on lethal terms now. Earlier, he was talking to the nurse. Asking about how he was doing, the nurse had told him everything Feliciano had failed to tell him.

"You little bastard...you can't start dying without me knowing. Who else doesn't know?" he growled.

"Fratello, Japan, Spain...everyone..." Italy admitted, slightly sheepishly.

There was a silence.

"And...what's with all this picture-taking?"

"So I can give them to all my closest friends...so they won't forget about me."

...

Germany swore he wouldn't tell anyone else, though he was reluctant. It would break his heart if he made his friend's and family sad or depressed. Wasn't it enough that he was depressed? That he was tired? That he had already had enough?

Italy sighed and decided he'd make a small trip to the vending machine. He needed some Vitamin drink or something that tasted better than tap water in a plastic hospital water bottle. As he made his way down the hall, he examined his "emergency-money". It was worth way more than needed to be inserted in the vending machine, but what did he care? He wouldn't need money in Heaven. Slipping the money into the machine, he waited for the "CLANK" at the bottom, signaling him to pull out his drink. Turning around, he jumped in surprise to see a young girl, maybe five or four, in a light blue hospital gown, staring up at him with wide, jade-green eyes. She was rather adorable.

"Ahah, you scared me, bambina," he chuckled, patting her on the head.

"Oh, I am sorry, Mr. Feliciano!" she spoke with a thick German accent.

"It's okay—ah! You know my name?"

"Yes, of course. I'm in the room next to you..."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I haven't really been social, lately. What's your name?"

"Nadine! You know, I'm a cancer patient, too, Mr. Feliciano!" she surprisingly, said that in an excited tone. It was like, she was happy to have something in common with him. Italy's heart fell. Then he remembered, he _had_ heard about Nadine. The doctors declared that she would die soon. Her condition was worse than his!

"Are you? I pray you'll get better, dear," he tried to sound calm and fatherly, for she probably didn't get to see her parents too often. And he made it seem like he had no idea she was dying. Hopefully, it'd come across as...comforting?

"It's too late for me," holy fuck this little girl was totally going to shatter Italy's fragile heart. She continued, "But I hope you get better! You're nice! God will let you live, I know it!"

Was she trying to give him hope? With her optimistic, childish ways? What a sweet child. I gave her a smile that really was built on a base of sorrow.

"Thank you, ve. And maybe...maybe it's not too late for you? Spare some hope for yourself, too!" he patted the little girls cheek as a goodbye and walked off.

_Since when did I become such a grandpa?_

Taking a sip of his vitamin drink, he let what had just happened run through his head like an old movie tape. When he thought about it more, he found there is something familiar about the little girl. Maybe it was just that her German accent reminded him of Germany? No, he figured different. He'd seen the girl before. How weird.

When Italy returned to his room, he set his drink down on the provided nightstand.

"Wow, I'm tired, veee..."

He plugged his IVs into his veins and collapsed in his bed again. This time, it was impossible not to fall asleep. One of the bothers of this damn illness. As soon as his head hit the pillow it was lights out.

"Feliciano I- you're asleep again," the nurse had come into the room with a bottle of juice.

"And I see you took a trip to the vending machine," she walked up to his nightstand. Then she turned to the patient.

"Fufu, you don't look so anxious when you're asleep," she patted his head, causing him to stir, but he did not wake.

...

Italy woke with a gasp. It was so noisy outside of his room, and he didn't have the slightest clue what the hell was going on. Rushing to the door, he flung it open to see someone was being pulled in a gurney with a white sheet pulled over the small body. She or he is dead. It's a damn shame...

_Who...is the one under the blanket though..?_

The thought hit him like a wrecking ball to the head.

"Ah...scusi! Nurse!"'he called to a short, plump woman wearing a blue nurse uniform who was bearing a clipboard.

"Sir?"

"Ve...which patient...which one is...in the gurney?"

"Ah...Nadine Eichel. It's a shame, really, she was such a sweet little girl."

The nurse walked off, leaving Italy in a depressing silence.

_How? She was alive about an hour ago...wait...how long WAS I asleep?!_

It turned out, he'd been asleep for hours. The girl was in bed when she died, asleep as well, only around twenty minutes before Italy woke up.

_My hope is dead._

Guys, I'm sorry to do that to you. First he has hope, then it does. Sorryyy.  
Um yeah so, this chapter isn't too great. Thank you writers block :/


	10. Chapter 10: Lucid Dream

** This chapter only has mild importance to the story, but I'm really running out of ideas for this. The only way I can see it ending is something that you guys would probably hate me for. So, I'll try to get this back on track, but it's hard.**

**...**

Heart thumping and cold sweats are not a nice way to wake up.

Wait...wake up?

The Italians eyes were wide as he felt his forehead burn, droplets of salty fluid dripped off of his chin and the ends of his hair. He felt like he never went to sleep. That there was a girl...

It was all a dream?

_No, I definitely talked to a girl._

There was no possible way he wasn't dreaming, was there? It all seemed so real and vivid. The lifting of his soul from when the little girl offered him much needed hope. The drama and confusion from when they rolled her motionless body away on a gurney. It was a dream...wasn't it...

He looked at his nightstand. There _was _a vitamin drink. How strange. That part was real, but was the other part?

Italy laid back against the backboard, trying not to strain his brain. He took a gulp of his drink and exhaled loudly as the fluid comfortably moistened his dry throat. Then, he took up his phone and checked his messages. He'd asked Germany to visit him again, tomorrow's date, last night. It appeared, he'd replied while he was out of it.

_Italy, I cannot visit you that day, for I am going to a funeral. My friend's (from my Berlin house) daughter died a week ago and asked that I attend._ Maybe next Sunday?

Italy nodded in understanding, though he knew Germany would not see him. He quickly texted a reply.

_That's alright, tell them I'm sorry for their loss, k? 3_

It might not have been the most appropriate use for a "3" but who cares?

"Why is everyone dying lately?" Italy sighed out loud.

"Beats me."

If the Italian had the same jovial energy as he once had, he would've jumped three feet in the air, no doubt about it. But instead, his whole body jolted with one violent shake.

"You scared me..." he sighed.

"Sorry," she set a tray of good down at my lap.

"But it is strange how the death rate has increased so much in Italy," she bit her lip.

Italy coughed when she said that.

"Ahem, yeah! Strange."

"Eeeh, yeah..." she gave him one last glance before turning around.

Before she could reach the door handle, Italy called for her attention once more. He had to ask about the little girl. To know whether it was real or not.

"Um...can you tell me about that little girl Nadine?"

"Nadine? Why would you wanna know about her?"

So she did exist. It was settled, he really did have that conversation, and he really did see her get pulled away under a blanket. Or so he thought.

"Um...I dunno..."

"Well, it doesn't really matter anyway, does it? She died a week ago, anyway." the nurse closed the door behind her as she walked out.

Italy gripped that bed sheets when she said that. Died a week ago. How was that possible? Was it really a dream? Just a cruel, lucid dream? He rubbed his temple. Why do I even care, he thought. Then suddenly, something hit him. His iPhone sat on the nightstand next to him, and he quickly picked it up. Scrolling through his contacts, he found Germany and tapped his icon to look at his test messages. Then he read over his most recent one.

_Italy, I cannot visit you that day, for I am going to a funeral. My friend's (from my Berlin house) daughter died a week ago and asked that I attend._ Maybe next Sunday?

Died a week ago. Nadine is a German name, right? He began to text.

_What was the girls name? Just wondering (:_

He waited a few minutes for a reply, unit he finally saw the phone vibrate. Quickly, he picked it up and looked at the message.

_Um...Nadine. I don't understand why you care, though._

The shocked Italian dropped his phone. What the fuck?!

_Oh, like I said, just wondering :3 bye~bye, Germany =w=_

...

...

"I am so damn confused!" he yelled on accident. Quickly, he clapped his hand over his mouth and looked over to the door for a few seconds. He sighed in relief when he realized, if anyone heard him, they'd probably come in to see what was wrong.

It's probably just this sickness going to my head, he thought, pinching the bridge of his noes.

_Or maybe that was a sign?_

Ugh, no!

"Oh!"

He picked up his phone again. Then he scrolled through his contacts, finding a name with an icon of a derpy unicorn. The name read "England". He tapped the name.

"He must know something!"

_Hey, Iggy, r u home?_

Almost immediately, the 'dot dot dot' sign that he was typing appeared.

_Hey, maaaan, unicorns, fairies, British shit!_

He jumped in surprise.

_What the hell?_

...

:3

Italy cocked his head. Then he pursed his lips together when he finally understood. But he didn't express his annoyance.

_You're America! XD_

Yeah, dude XDD How'd you know? O:

Just had a feeling...can you get England now?

Sure, man, whatevs.

He waited for England. It was only about a minute until he heard "boop" and a message popped up.

_Yes?_

England, right?

I am.

Good :3 I need to ask you something.

If it has to do with pasta, you're wasting my time.

Italy silently grunted. That was a bit offensive.

_Look, if you don't wanna be helpful, I'll ask Norway._

Oh..I see...

I had this really weird thing happen to me. There was a little girl, talking to me. It was a dream, but it seemed so realistic. Apparently, she died a week before I had the dream. What does that mean?

The reply came very late.

_Weird._

Yeah?

I don't know much about dream related stuff, sorry. I don't think Norway does either.

"Thanks for nothing." Italy whispered to himself.


	11. Another author message, sorry

Sorry guys, taking a hiatus on this story and all my others except for Sunflowers and Vodka. All the ideas I'm having are for that one, and I just wanna keep writing more and more of it. So, the other stories aren't going to be updated much, or in a while. Um, so again, I apologize.

See ya~


	12. DISCONTINUED

Guys, I'm sorry, but I don't want to go on with this story. I'm bored with it. So so so so so so so bored. So there's no way I'm writing for this story anymore.

If someone wants to continue it on their own, be my guest.


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